57

Abide With Me
Henry F. Lyte, 1820
William H. Monk, 1861

Abide with me:  fast falls the eventide.
The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide!
When other helpers fail and comforts flee.
Help of the helpless, O, abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day;
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away.
Change and decay in all around I see.
O Thou, who changest not, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight and tears no bitterness.
Where is death's sting?  Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still if Thou abide with me.

I need Thy presence ev'ry passing hour;
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's pow'r?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.